


Selenelions

by ScullyGolightly



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Episode: s07e10 Sein Und Zeit, Episode: s07e11 Closure, F/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 17:09:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18525922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScullyGolightly/pseuds/ScullyGolightly
Summary: This is written for smilingoceanlover (AO3, ffnet, tumblr) for the 2019 XF Easter Fic Exchange.Prompt: "A good case file with some sexually charged banter is always a good idea."I hope you enjoy it!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smilingoceanlover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilingoceanlover/gifts).



> This is written for smilingoceanlover (AO3, ffnet, tumblr) for the 2019 XF Easter Fic Exchange.   
> Prompt: "A good case file with some sexually charged banter is always a good idea."   
> I hope you enjoy it!

SHARK FIN COVE

DAVENPORT, CALIFORNIA

FEBRUARY 23, 2000

10:13 PM

 

Her bare feet slipped on the ice plant as she made her way toward the edge of the bluff. The chilled night air had made the sprawling carpet of succulents slick with dew. She seemed to be in a hurry, but the reason why escaped her addled mind. A fine mist of seawater sprayed her face telling her that she was near the edge. Utter blackness was all she saw ahead of her even though the light from the waning gibbous moon was bright in the sky.

 

She blinked, trying to make any image appear, and before long the outline of Shark Fin Rock was clear, its border looked to be on fire. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, the raging flames frightening her, and when she looked again the rock changed shape from that of a shark’s fin to a gigantic shark emerging, menacingly, from the water. “No,” she whispered. 

 

There was quite a distance from where she stood on the bluff to the rock. This information was somewhere in her brain, but when the impossible vision of what now looked like a beastly sea monster leapt from the ocean straight at her, she jumped to the side to evade the clutches of its mighty jaw. Her foot got tangled in a ropy tendril of the hardy weed and she tried to right herself but lost her balance. Her body pitched over the edge of the cliff into the icy water below.

 

FBI HEADQUARTERS

WASHINGTON, DC

FEBRUARY 24, 2000

2:22 PM

 

Scully winced as she read the file. She had celebrated her birthday yesterday and this poor woman had fallen to her death. Her eyes skimmed the rest of the details then she looked up at Mulder. “Back to California for us, it seems.”

 

Mulder nodded his agreement. “Maybe we should look for secondary housing. It feels like the past few months we’ve been out there more than we’ve been home.” 

 

This was true. Scully thought about those cases that had sent them out to the West Coast. There was the brain-eating Lucky Boy monster of Costa Mesa, the magician bank heist in Santa Monica, then the horrific case of Amber Lynn LaPierre that had uncovered a mass graveyard of murdered children at Santa’s Village in Sacramento. Just last week they had found themselves the unsuspecting cast of an episode of  _ COPS _ as they scoured the streets of Los Angeles for a werewolf.

 

A lot had happened out in California, but none of it was more jarring than the LaPierre case. Mulder had finally found a peace surrounding the disappearance of his sister, and she was glad for that, the closure was long overdue, but the pain he felt from his mother’s suicide was still raw no matter how much he played it off, insisting that he was fine. And what had happened between them the night following her autopsy hung heavily over them both. 

 

Scully closed the file and placed it on the desk. “What time is our flight?”

 

“6:40. I’ll pick you up.”

 

“All right,” said Scully, going to the coat rack to retrieve her things so she could go home and pack.

 

When she got to the door, Mulder called out, “Oh, Scully.” She turned around and looked at him. He seemed kind of small behind the desk; there was some sadness in his eyes. “Happy belated birthday.”

 

Scully quirked a grin. “It’s every  _ four _ years for you, Mulder. You’re a year early.” He huffed out a laugh and looked down, shyly, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to be let off the hook. “And besides, you got me that personal baseball lesson, remember?” she said, playfully. “See you in a bit.”

 

“Yeah,” he sighed, still avoiding her gaze, taciturnly running his finger along the edge of the desk blotter. When he did finally look back up at the door, she wasn’t there like he’d expected she’d be, standing there with her forehead scrunched up in worried concern. Scully had been giving him that look a lot lately and it pained him. But now he was, at once, relieved and disappointed that her vigilance over his mood might be waning. 

 

His feelings for her were now wrapped up and tangled with his grief. He knew they were separate and independent of each other, but the line they had crossed because of it had muddled everything and he had trouble reconciling the barrage of emotions. Mulder picked up the file she had placed on the desk. Regardless of what he was going through, there was work to be done.  

 

SANTA CRUZ COUNTY MORGUE

FEBRUARY 25, 2000

8:31 AM

 

Scully removed the latex glove with a snap just as Mulder came through the door. “Find anything?” he asked.

 

“I did. Since they were ruling it an accidental death they didn’t do a tox screen, although they should have, but I ran one and found a large amount of α-Pyrrolidinopentiophenone also known as alpha-PVP in her system. It’s a powerful stimulant and would explain why she went out to that bluff.”

 

“Why would it explain that?”

 

“The drug affects the user’s energy levels, giving them the urge to do vigorous physical activity—running, climbing, dancing. This particular type of stimulation is known as forced, where the body can’t be still. Also, there can be hallucinatory effects in high dosages.”

 

Mulder hummed, thinking. “Well, this information doesn’t jive with my theory.”

 

“The evidence rarely does, Mulder,” she said, smirking. “But, let’s hear it.”

 

He made a little bow of his head in gratitude. “I’ll show you. Get changed and meet me out front.” 

 

COURT OF MYSTERIES

9:02 AM

 

They got out of the rental car and approached the gates of the property. It was locked with heavy duty chains, so they peered through the iron bars at the odd structure. 

 

“Is it some sort of temple?” asked Scully.

 

“No, it was built as a personal dwelling by a bricklayer named Kenneth Kitchen in 1946. His brother Raymond built a similar structure up the street but it’s since been torn down, and it wasn’t known to have the same purpose as this one.” Scully’s eyebrow arched on the word “purpose” and Mulder grinned, continuing with his historical account. “The brothers only built at night with just the light of the moon because of the powers they believe it held.”

 

“Or they were just avoiding having to get building permits,” Scully interjected.

 

Mulder chuckled and shook his head. “After the Japanese submarine attack off the coast of Monterey, Kenneth went about devising a submarine interference device which consisted of a spoked wheel of railroad ties buried in the yard and connected to the two obelisks,” he said, pointing at the towers. One was a tall, slender pillar of red brick inlaid with white stones and the other had a large pyramidal base of the same brick adorned with shapes of abalone shell mosaics. “One pillar sent radio signals to submarines and the other received them, supposedly jamming up the signals for enemy crafts. It’s rumored that it actually worked and that the government attempted to steal his plans.”

 

A gust of wind eddied, hissing as it passed through the deadened lower fronds of the palm trees creating an eerie sound. Mulder looked up, then took Scully by the arm, guiding her to step back. She followed his gaze up to the arched entryway. “It’s called the Gate of Prophecy,” Mulder explained. At the top of the arch was a large stone triangle embedded with intricate astrological symbols in the same shell mosaic fashion that embellished the other structures. A circle at its center resembled a heliacal clock with a crescent moon at twelve o’clock and the sun at six. “Kenneth believed that it was possible for these symbols to move and when they lined up over a point on axis with the temple’s fireplace it would signal the end of the world. Both brothers studied Eastern occult practices and were known to perform moon magic rituals and spells against their enemies.”

 

“This place is ten miles from where Sonia Tripp died, and it’s been abandoned for quite some time. It’s a cool story, Mulder, but I don’t see what it has to do with this case.”

 

“A similar obelisk has mysteriously popped up near Shark Fin Cove. Nobody knows who built it. And Kenneth Kitchen disappeared without a trace.”

 

“So you think he’s back and doing moon magic?”

 

“I think it’s worth looking into. While you were doing your autopsy, I went over the other reports of strange behavior since the full moon last week, and it seems something is going on, affecting the people of Davenport.”

 

“I’d like to look at those reports because it’s possible that there’s just an upsurge of narcotic usage, of alpha-PVP being distributed around town.”

 

“We can look into that, too, Scully,” he said with a brazen grin.

 

“Moon magic,” scoffed Scully. “At least you’re not claiming it’s vampire influence.”

 

“Oh, is there a history of vampiric activity in this area?” Mulder asked seriously.

 

Scully smirked. “No,  _ The Lost Boys _ was filmed here.”

 

“Ha ha,” he deadpanned. 

 

They both swiveled their heads towards the building when they caught movement in their periphery.

 

“What is that?” Mulder asked as they stepped closer to the fence. 

 

There was something on the roof of the main structure, but they couldn’t see what it was. Then a bleating sound carried through the air and the head of a goat popped up over the edge. It bleated again, looking right at them.

 

“How and why is there a goat on the roof of this abandoned building, Mulder?”

 

“I don’t know, Scully. Pretty spooky, if you ask me.” His waggish smile was infectious, and she tried to keep the corners of her mouth from going upward. She walked away from him, shaking her head, and he followed after her to the car.

 

SCHOFIELD RESIDENCE

11:21 AM

 

“No, there’s no way Sonia was on drugs,” Sandra, Sonia Tripp’s sister, stated adamantly. “She was very particular about what she put in her body. She was vegan, didn’t drink, the only recreational drugs she did was some pot in college. There has to be foul play, she was drugged or something.”

 

Mulder turned to Scully. “Did you find anything in your autopsy that would indicate she was drugged?”

 

“There were faint needle marks all over, but that’s consistent with acupuncture.”

 

“She did acupuncture treatment once a week,” said Sandra. “In fact, she had an appointment the evening she died.”

 

“Do you know the purpose of that treatment?” Scully asked.

 

“To manage her anxiety. She had only gone a couple of times, but said that it seemed to be helping.”

 

Mulder and Scully shared an ineffectual look, this information giving them nothing to go on.

 

“Please keep investigating,” pleaded Sandra. “The police seem happy to just chalk it up to an accidental death, but I know something happened to her. And now that you say she had drugs in her system, I’m even more certain of it.”

 

“We’ll do our best, Ms. Schofield,” Mulder said. “Do you know if she had any enemies? Anyone that would want to harm her?”

 

“No, I can’t imagine anyone having ill will toward Sonia. She was a kind, gentle soul.” Her lip quivered, and she apologized for her sudden onset of emotion. Scully handed the box of tissue that was next to her on the side table to Sandra. “Thank you,” she sniffed, dabbing her wet eyes. 

 

Mulder took a card from his coat pocket. “Call us if you think of anything else.”

 

Sandra nodded, taking the card, then stood up to walk them to the front door. 

 

“What do you think, Mulder?” asked Scully as they made their way to the car. 

 

“I agree with her—this is not an accidental death.”

 

“Why don’t we go back to the station and go through those other reports to see if anything else looks connected to Sonia’s death.”

 

“You do that, Scully. I want to go to the site. Since the local police aren’t investigating it, I doubt they searched the area very well.” He gave Scully the car key. “It’s a short walk from here.”

 

“All right, let me know if you find anything and I can get the sheriff to get forensics out there.”

 

SHARK FIN COVE

11:57 AM

 

Mulder sat down on the bench near the cliff’s edge. Having found nothing around the area where Sonia took her deathly fall, his thoughts began to shift to his own personal loss without his permission. He tried to dull his emotions to the onslaught of anxiety by taking in the majesty of the sea in front of him. The sun was lightly filtered through a cloud cover, making the surface of the ocean glitter and sparkle.

 

His breath hitched as a gray whale breached, rising out of the water in a grand spectacle just for him. There was no one else around, no boats or whale watching tours out to see this magnificent beast in its own environment. Mulder instantly wished Scully was with him. She would love this. He wondered if her own thoughts would’ve turned to her father like his had gone straight to his mother once his brain was left to its own devices. Of course, it had been many years since her father had passed—his grief was still fresh. 

 

Too fresh. He couldn’t help but rehash everything that had happened, going over what his mother’s mindset must’ve been like to come to that decision. How she had sought closure for herself in the only option she saw fit just as he found the answers he had spent almost a lifetime searching for. Mulder still questioned it although he forced himself to let it go—that both his mother’s and sister’s fates were just as they appeared to be. They were at peace now and probably wanted him to be as well.

 

That was what Scully wanted for him. She had told him the truth knowing it would be near impossible for him to accept, and then she comforted him in the ways that he needed, or perhaps she thought he needed, maybe against her better judgments. This is what continued to tear him up inside. He felt he was at a place to move on from their deaths, but what had happened between him and Scully had erected another immovable wall. They weren’t talking about it, and he knew he couldn’t put it all on Scully and her usual tendency of avoidance. He was avoiding it, too.

 

The water whirled and whipped in the spot where the whale had now resubmerged, foamy white caps the only evidence that something spectacular had just occurred. He tried not to correlate that with him and Scully. What would the evidence be for them? The awkward silences with which they were now plagued, too painfully and too often. 

 

Mulder stood and walked down the narrow footpath to the road. Highway 1 ran along the coast, separating the beaches and cliffs with the main part of the town. There were no cars coming in either direction so he jogged quickly to the other side instead of going up to the pedestrian crossing. He took a side street between two rows of businesses—which included an acupuncturist, Mulder noted—that led to a residential area and the entrance of an abandoned cement factory. The tower that resembled Kenneth Kitchen’s monument was in a small grove nearby. All the while, he made valiant efforts at tamping down feelings that emerged every time he was free of distraction.

 

The beachgrass came up to his hips, obscuring the faintly worn path. The wind swished through it with a soothing sibilance that seemed to die out suddenly once the obelisk came into view. It was constructed of small red bricks with some white granite ones interspersed throughout. At the bottom was a row of whole abalone shells. Near the top were pieces of the opalescent shells formed into mosaic shapes, mostly triangles and crescents.

 

Mulder walked around it, studying it. At about twelve feet high, Mulder struggled to see the details at the peak. He crouched down, inspecting the base. There was a carving in the red brick which looked like two Ks. He was just about to lean in for a closer look when something rammed into him, laying him out onto the sandy ground. Mulder scrambled up and turned around to see a goat nonchalantly chewing the dry grass, a look of indifference on its listless face. 

 

“What the hell?” Mulder muttered as he rubbed his lower back where the goat had head-butted him. It responded with a whining vibrato, the scrawny beard on its chin wagging at him. He kept view of the animal as he took another look at the carving, careful not to be rushed again. It was two Ks engraved deeply and neatly into the brick, almost like a bricklayer’s stamp. He backed up the pathway, eyeing the ornery goat, and took out his cell phone to call Scully.  

 

COAST INN

6:36 PM

 

Scully had the files spread out on the table in Mulder’s room. She had just shown him several where the atypical actions of the townspeople could point to the use of alpha-PVP. She had one of the files in her hands. “I’d like to question this guy tomorrow. His roommate called the police when he tried to force himself on her. She said it seemed he had suddenly gone mad. One of the effects of the drug is tactile enhancement and an increased libido. They held him overnight and the next day he had no recollection of the incident.”

 

“Did they test him for drugs?” asked Mulder.

 

“No, just a breathalyzer which came up clean.”

 

“When did this happen?”   
  
  


“Sunday, the 20th.”

 

“The full moon, Scully.”

 

She stopped the eye roll she felt itch within her sockets. “So, we’ll go visit Mr. Grayson in the morning. Maybe this will shed some light on what’s going on.”

 

“Would the drug still show up in his blood? I mean, if he agrees to take a drug test?”

 

“Probably not in his blood, you usually only have a window of 72 hours for that, but we can test with a hair sample.”

 

“All right, sounds like a plan.” Mulder stood and fidgeted, wiping his palms on the front of his slacks. He was confounded by his emotions again, wanting Scully to stay, but also feeling the sudden need to be by himself. “Uh…” he said, not knowing which notion to follow. “Wanna order pizza or something?”

 

Scully glanced up at him as she gathered the files into her briefcase. She noticed his hesitancy, and it made her want to get out of there as quickly as possible. “No, thanks,” she said, standing. She slipped back into her heels and went to the door, tossing a terse goodnight to him over her shoulder as she left.

 

Mulder sunk down onto the bed, rubbing his face with his hands, then he shook his head sharply back and forth to keep himself from over-analyzing what he had said, how he had said it, and her prompt departure. She had left the file he had assembled at the station with photos and reports of activity at the Court of Mysteries going back years. Mulder picked it up and laid down on the bed, hoping to bury his thoughts in this mystical place. 

 

Hours passed and Mulder felt the strain on his eyes. He had found the same carving of the two Ks in several photos as he scoured over them with a magnifying glass. There had also been a report of the neighbors calling in a noise complaint back in 1989. They said it sounded like an animal bleating, but when the police searched the vacant lot, they found no goats or any other animals that would belong to such a sound.

 

He stood up and fished around in his pant’s pocket for some change, then went, sock-footed, outside to the vending machine. Scully’s room was two doors down from his and he hesitated at her door before scoffing at himself and walking on, breathing into his hands and rubbing them together to warm them. Armed with a bag of sunflower seeds and a soda on the way back, he did the same little faltering dance and then he was knocking on her door before he realized. 

 

Scully opened it and seemed surprised to see him standing there. “Oh, I thought you were the maintenance guy.”

 

She stepped more into the light from the outdoor hallway and he saw that she was bundled up in what looked like all the clothes she had packed for the trip.

 

“Maintenance?”

 

“The heater broke in my room.”

 

He leaned in and felt that it was just as cold inside as it was outside. “You must be freezing, Scully.”

 

She shrugged. “They gave me extra blankets.”

 

Mulder gave her a concerned look. “It may be California, but it’s still winter, and lows for tonight are in the 30s. You won’t be able to sleep like this.” He made a motion with his hand. “C’mon.”

 

“It’s fine, Mulder.”

 

He shook his head. “Look, I can practically see your breath. Don’t be silly.”

 

Scully shifted her feet and looked back into her room, thinking about her options and his offer. “Uh,” she sighed, reluctantly, “okay.” 

 

Mulder held the door open as she shed some of her layers down to her pajamas, threw her coat back on, and grabbed her room key. Scully followed nervously behind him, thinking about the one queen bed that they would share tonight. They had slept in the same bed once a little over a year ago while on that case in Kansas, but that had been well before a certain New Year’s Eve kiss and a night of grief-filled intimacy that had happened just weeks ago. Scully had been unable to wrap her brain around the feelings that these events had brought to the forefront, and she was certain that being in such close proximity to her partner would blur things even further. 

 

He tossed his seeds on the table and opened the soda, offering her some. She shook her head and stood awkwardly next to the bed. Mulder started to ramble, telling her about what he had found in the reports and photos. All Scully heard was muffled words, her self-consciousness taking up every square inch of her brain, filling her head like cotton. She was too worried about her own awkwardness to notice that Mulder was rambling because of his. 

 

Scully shucked her coat off and hung it over the back of the chair, her movements in slow motion, and she nodded her head as if she was listening to what Mulder was saying. Mulder absentmindedly began to undress as he spoke, coming to sudden realization once he was down to his undershirt and boxers. He stopped talking and looked at Scully, and seeing how uncomfortable she was, blurted out, “I can sleep on the floor."

 

“No, no,” Scully said. “If anyone should take the floor it should be me.”

 

“I’m not going to let you sleep on the floor, Scully.” They shared a long look, stuck in some weird stalemate, then Mulder tutted, waving his hand between them in attempt to dispel their mutual unease. “I’m fine to share the bed if you are.” 

 

Scully shrugged as if she wasn’t sure why he was making a big deal of it. “Yeah, of course, me too. It’s fine.”

 

Mulder nodded. “Okay then.”

 

She returned the nod. “I, I’m gonna, um…” Scully gestured toward the bed. “You can stay up if you want. I’ll be okay with the light on.”

 

“No, probably best if I call it a night, too.” He took another swig of the soda, then went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Scully got under the covers on the right side of the bed, knowing Mulder took the left.  _ Such an intimate thing to know about one’s co-worker, _ she thought. It was just another thing that put them well outside the category of platonic partners.

 

The light went off when he came back in, and she felt the dip of the bed as he laid down beside her. Scully was curled up facing away from him. She cleared her throat and said, “Thanks for letting me sleep in here.”

 

“Of course, Scully. I just want you to be comfortable.” She didn’t say anything to this and Mulder felt the urge to fill the silence. “Are you ...comfortable?”

 

The question felt loaded whether he intended it to be or not. “Y-yes, Mulder. Are you?”

 

“I am, Scully,” he said, earnestly. They weren’t talking about the temporary sleeping arrangements anymore, and they both knew that.

 

Scully thought that now would be the perfect time to address what had happened, but her mouth went dry and instead she just whispered goodnight, closing her eyes, feeling like a coward.


	2. Chapter 2

MULDER’S APARTMENT

ALEXANDRIA, VA

3 WEEKS EARLIER

9:23 PM

 

The look on his face broke her heart into a thousand pieces, no, a million. No, more than that. How many stars were in the universe? It was that many. Finally, something she had said had snuck through his strong defense system, but it didn’t make her feel any better, and it certainly didn’t have that effect on Mulder either. His eyes were clouded, not just with unshed tears but something else that Scully couldn’t decipher—it scared her because she had spent years learning to decode his looks, to speak the unspoken language known only to the two of them. She also sensed anger there and that terrified her. What good was it to show someone the truth if it had the power to utterly destroy them? Did she have to be the one to do it? Would he ever forgive her?

 

Mulder swallowed roughly and continued to pierce through her soul with that inscrutable stare, then he looked down, bringing his hands to his face, his fingertips smoothing across his forehead as if he was trying to erase her words before they sunk in any deeper and he made the mistake of believing them. 

 

When he abruptly stood, gripping the edge of his desk and shaking it, she reached for him like he was a frightened animal. He deflected, stepping back, and put his finger up between them; it was both accusatory and a warning— _ think before you take the shattered shards of me and grind them into dust _ is what his body language seemed to tell her. And then just as quickly as his aggressive reaction erupted, he crumbled. She reached for him again, and this time he accepted it or, at least, was too tired to put up a fight. 

 

“She was trying to tell me something,” he chirred, tears now falling, his limp body sinking down into the chair. The sob that followed practically knocked the wind out of her with the amount of sorrow that carried in that one blunt, anguished note. 

 

Scully knelt down next to him, clutching his arm and rubbing his back. “She was trying to tell you to stop. To stop looking for your sister.” She paused, thinking she had sounded too stern. Mulder didn’t need to hear that right now, some demand from Scully or her interpretation of his mother’s message from beyond the grave. Her tone softened and became wet with emotion, the steeliness she had thought might protect them both folded like flimsy paper. “She was just trying to take away your pain,” she said, her voice breaking at the end.

 

This time he reached for her, his arms going around her, desperately, clawing; she embraced him, tangling herself with him, trying to absorb his suffering. But she couldn’t take it from him no matter how much she wanted to or how deep her empathy ran within her. She was completely helpless, there was nothing she could do besides bear witness to the tragedy and watch it break her partner, knowing that she did not have the tools to fix it, that the love she held in her heart for him was useless, lacking in the face of so much loss. 

 

And that was why when he kissed her, she panicked. She wasn’t sure how long she had been holding him, both their bodies shaking from his racking sobs. Then there was a period of quiet, of stillness. Hours could’ve passed or maybe it was seconds.  _ Time is a universal invariant. _ How naive she had been back then. How many instances had she seen that had rocked the foundation of her precious physics, the laws of science that she had put her faith in. The very nature of their relationship defied so many of her steadfast beliefs, making her feel cracked open and vulnerable so often which led her to build stronger and thicker walls around her heart. And impenetrable as those walls seemed, Mulder continued to find his way in. He was her universal invariant.

 

She loved him. She loved him so fiercely and had long before she admitted it to herself. The intensity of that love scared her, and now that fear increased as she realized that her love for him could not help him when he needed it most, could even make it worse. Her body immediately responded to the kiss, she wanted nothing more than to exist in this closeness with him. Ever since that New Year’s Eve kiss that was what she wanted. But, that had been such a big step for them, so big that any momentum from it had stalled with her anxiety over the meaning of it. In their typical manner, the action was shrouded in cryptic ambiguity. “The world didn’t end,” he had said with a grin. She remembered cocking her head and looking at him, trying to figure out his intention behind it. Was he testing the waters or just teasing her or was it simply a midnight kiss between friends? She didn’t know, but she couldn’t argue with his statement. “No, it didn’t,” she had replied, returning the smile.

 

But as she kissed him back now, alarm bells going off in her head and her conscience screaming at her that it was wrong and selfish to act on lust—or even love—in an attempt to comfort, she did feel that their world might end. Her tongue caught a tear on the edge of his lip and the taste of it seemed to spur on her own tears. Scully pulled back, choking down a sob. His hand on the back of her neck held her firmly and he leaned in, his lips frantically seeking hers again.

 

Mulder pressed his open mouth to hers, their tears now mixing against their wet cheeks. She let his tongue in and whimpered as he caressed hers. He was still in the chair, twisting his body into her knelt position, trying to get as close as possible. She got up enough strength to break the kiss again and hugged him tight, afraid to look at him. “It’s okay,” she whispered into his ear, not knowing what she meant by it or if she was telling him or herself. 

 

He slipped off the chair onto the floor with her, pulling her into his lap. “I need…” He needed so many things right now, and all of them included her. If he was not holding onto her he felt he might disappear, consumed wholly by this pain. Mulder had nothing in this world besides Scully. His family was lost and dead, and his search for the truth which had been his lifeblood, his fuel, was coming to a bitter end. He clung to Scully as if his life depended on it because it did.

 

Mulder had once read that bereavement tends to magnify what’s already in a relationship, and his love for Scully—his trust in her—did seem to grow, to become so intense that he needed her presence and her touch to remind him that he was still living more than he needed his next breath. He felt Scully’s hesitation even through his numbness, but his need outweighed any apprehension about her reticence and whether or not she shared even a fraction of his feelings.

 

He had kissed her as the ball dropped on the New Year, his first step in his resolution to stop wasting time in not showing her that he loved her. But, he should have told her, too, not just kissing her vaguely, leaving it up to interpretation and risking his sentiment getting lost in translation. Mulder had no idea how Scully felt about him; the kiss which was supposed to shed light on the status of their relationship had pushed him even further into the dark.

 

He said it again, “I need…” then silently begged her not to ask him what he needed. His face was buried in the crook of her neck, his plea muffled and moist on her skin. Mulder began to paw at her coat and the collar of her shirt. She helped him; the coat came off and with shaky hands she unbuttoned her blouse while he kissed her neck, moving the fabric aside to press his lips along her shoulder.

 

Then her shirt joined her jacket in a heap on the floor beside them. Mulder pushed her back a little, his eyes settling at a spot on her neck, the hollow of her throat; they glazed over, going distant as he placed his open palm on her chest over her heart. Scully held her breath, then squeezed her eyes closed, hot tears gathering. This was a mistake; she was ruining everything that they had built between them over the past seven years, but she couldn’t stop now. He was so broken and alone, what would walking away do to him? Even if she thought it was in his best interest, she couldn’t do that to him. 

 

Mulder focused his eyes again and saw her face twisted in distress, tears staining her flushed cheeks. Her heart pounded under his hand. This was a mistake; he was putting her in an impossible position. He knew she wanted to comfort him, but he was pushing it in an inappropriate direction. His loss created a void in him and he was desperate to fill it, right now, with her. It had to be her. 

 

He took a few deep breaths trying to align the beating of his heart with hers. Scully’s eyes remained closed. He shifted, his erection straining against his jeans. She must be able to feel him. Mulder winced, being aroused under these circumstances disturbed him. He brought her into him, pressing his forehead to hers, and he heard her let out a breath. “I’m sorry, Sc-“

 

She stopped him. “Shh.” He tilted his chin up and she nuzzled against his nose, then kissed the wetness on his cheek and went down toward his lips. She was going to stop thinking and just feel, connect with him on a physical level, hoping to give him a reprieve, to help him to stop thinking, too. She couldn’t worry about the repercussions right now or of the inevitable guilt she would have. He needed comfort in this moment and his body was telling him, telling them both, how it could be comforted. She would not deny him. 

 

Mulder guided her to lie back on the floor, and his hands went to the clasp of her pants, but he hesitated, his fingers twitching in the air above her, doubtingly. He wanted this so badly, but he wanted to know that she wanted it, too, and he was afraid that this memory, this huge moment between them, would be forever marred by his sadness or her pity. 

 

Scully reached for his hands and brought them up to her lips, kissing across his knuckles, then she undid her pants and scooted them down her hips. Taking her lead, he pulled them off, stopping to remove her boots. There she was, splayed out on the floor before him in just her bra and panties, looking like a goddess, and he was kneeling between her legs, a shivering, sweaty, crumpled mess, probably not worthy of her on his best day let alone one of his worst. 

 

There was a lump in his throat and he felt another powerful wave of emotion cresting, about to sweep him under, but Scully saved him from it, tugging at his hand. 

 

“I need you,” she said. If she could move his thoughts away from thinking that this was his need alone, then maybe he could let go. 

 

Mulder searched her eyes—his mind was too all over the place to find any clarification there, but there was reassurance, and a steadiness that allowed him to stop thinking. He peeled his t-shirt over his head and stood up to take off his jeans. “Should we… um, go to the bed?”

 

Scully shook her head. “No,” she said, propped up on her elbows looking at him. “Right here.”

 

Mulder tucked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and turned his head to the side shyly. Scully noticed his self-consciousness and busied herself with removing her own underwear, taking away the heat of her gaze on him. 

 

He knelt back down and hovered over her, at first taking his time looking at her, his eyes moving across her body, over the soft curves and pale skin. His lips parted in awe at the sight of her breasts, perfect mounds with taut rosy tips. Scully put her hand to his cheek and he leaned into it, turning to kiss her palm. 

 

For some reason, this incited a sense of urgency in him, and he lowered down, licking the valley of her chest, groping clumsily at her right breast. She arched her back and moaned in encouragement. His lips closed around her nipple and he sucked the peak into his mouth, then grazed across it with his teeth, grunting when he heard her gasp. 

 

Scully reached down between them, gripping his hard shaft and stroking him. His hips thrust into her; she felt cool wetness on her hip from the drops of pre-cum that had gathered at his tip. She positioned him at her entrance, running his head up and down her folds so he could feel that she was wet for him, too. 

 

He said her name in a strained voice and pushed into her. She wrapped her legs around him, grinding her pelvis up against him, taking him deeper. Mulder latched onto her neck, planting sloppy kisses there, then up to her chin and lips. His movements were gawkish, ungainly, wanting to touch her everywhere at once, to give her pleasure but also relieve his building ache. It made him feel scattered, all the different parts of him trying to go in different directions.

 

Scully centered him by putting her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look at her. When their eyes met, he was able to focus on one thing and he sped up the pumping of his hips; she rewarded him with a whimpering “Yesss, Mulderrr.”

 

“Scully.” Another lump of emotion collected in his throat. “I love you,” he whispered, followed by a sob. He squeezed his eyes shut, teardrops pattering down onto her cheeks. 

 

Scully hugged him close to her, meeting his frantic thrusts, sensing that he was almost there. She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to climax because of the raw anxiety coursing through her. This wasn’t for her pleasure, she knew that, Mulder needed the release, the surge of feel-good endorphins into his bloodstream. But, if she didn’t come or faked it and he knew that she had, it would just add to his worries or create doubt and mistrust. She wanted the catharsis of their lovemaking to last as long as possible.  

 

Taking a deep, calming breath, she willed her mind into a sort of zen state, concentrating on just the feel of him: his weight heavy on top of her, his smooth heat moving inside her, his slick skin, hot and sliding against hers. She had yearned for this moment for so long and now it was happening. He felt so good; they fit perfectly together, joined so completely. Warmth began to spread in her belly and her breath hitched. “Yes, yesss,” she hissed with hopeful expectancy and nudged her lips along his cheek in search for his lips. Scully kissed him deeply, passionately, her climax building with each lick, nip, and suck. He cried out suddenly; his harsh breath filled her mouth, her cheeks ballooning out like he was giving her CPR. She compared it to something clinical but it was intensely erotic and, in an instant, she was spasming around his length, moaning his name. 

 

They laid naked on the floor, clinging to each other, for quite some time afterward. It wasn’t until Scully shivered that they wordlessly got up and put their clothes back on. She took him by the hand and led him to his bedroom, motioning for him to lie down. Scully brought him a glass of water and some ibuprofen, and he dutifully took the medicine and emptied the glass with big gulps. She took it from him and turned to leave the room, intending to refill it and come right back, but he stopped her. 

 

“Stay,” he said softly. “Please.”

 

She set the glass down on the nightstand and crawled into bed next to him, cuddling up to his side and resting her head on his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”


	3. Chapter 3

COAST INN

DAVENPORT, CALIFORNIA

FEBRUARY 26, 2000

7:44 AM

 

_ Ah, that feels nice, _ Scully thought upon waking. The warm hand covering her boob was a soothing feeling to wake up to, and probably why she didn’t question it right away. When she did, though, the realization hitting her suddenly, her whole body stiffened. Her face grew hot, noticing that her leg was draped over Mulder’s hip. He was stiff, too, but still asleep—his erection trapped underneath her thigh. 

 

There was only the thin layer of his boxers and the silk of her pajamas between her skin and his naked hardness. She swallowed roughly as her body responded to this knowledge, her nipple puckering into pert nub in his palm. How could she get out of this by sparing them both embarrassment? Scully started to move her leg slowly off of him, but Mulder sensed it, or his dick did, and he made a little sleepy thrust searching for the contact again. In doing this, his hand squeezed her breast, rubbing softly against her now sensitive nipple, causing her to arch her back involuntarily. She bit her lip as she felt a throbbing between her legs. 

 

Slow was not going to work when she seemed to get more worked up with every second that passed being entwined so intimately with him.  _ Like a bandaid, _ she told herself, then took a deep breath and rolled swiftly away from him off the bed, landing on the floor with a thud. Mulder jerked awake, looking around. “Scully?”

 

She sheepishly popped her head up, cheeks red from the heat of her arousal and her embarrassment. “I, uh, I fell.” Then, completely out of her control, her eyes flicked down to his crotch where his hard-on tented the bedding. Scully stood abruptly. “Sorry, um, I mean, sorry to wake you.”

 

He had noticed her glance and didn’t need to look for himself to know that his morning wood was evident under the covers. Mulder cleared his throat and sat up, bunching the sheets in his lap. “It’s okay, uh ...are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, I’m going to go shower in my room, and get ready,” she said, backing away from him, “so you can get ready, too, and all that.” Scully cringed inwardly at how awkward she was being.  _ What, exactly, was “all that?” _ she asked herself.

 

_ Thanks for the image of you being naked in the shower, Scully, _ thought Mulder, abashedly, as his cock hardened even more. And what did she mean by “all that?” She probably thought he was going to jerk off as soon as she left. He was planning on doing that anyway, but now knowing that she was aware of it and insinuated as much, had him totally mortified. 

 

Scully welcomed the frigid air in her room—her body was on fire. How had they gravitated to each other during the night? She had had trouble falling asleep as she laid rigid, as close to the edge as she could, the warmth of his body behind her tempting her as she thought about how they had held each other in his bed that night. Who was the first to make the unconscious move toward the other, to touch in a way that they couldn’t bring themselves to while they were awake?

 

Scully decided it was Mulder. He was still grieving and he sought comfort with the closest thing to him, just like he had that night. Her skin had cooled with the low temperature of the room, but now she felt a coldness coming from inside of her. Proximity. That and her devotion to him. She would do anything for him, anything to take away his pain. His body sought contact with hers simply because she was there and she yielded to him because she loved him with her entire being.  

 

This soul-crushing awareness did nothing to quell the lust spurred on by waking up in his arms. She could still feel his hardness against her leg. Scully got in the shower, putting her head directly under the stream of water, wanting to drown out her thoughts and her desires. She now knew the size of him, not the way she had known it before from stolen glances when they found themselves unwittingly naked in front of each other, but how big he was when fully erect, hard and pulsing, leaking pre-cum. The hand she didn’t know had made its way down to her sex pushed two fingers inside her and she moaned loudly.

 

She not only knew how he looked, but how he felt. The way the smooth head of his penis had slid through her folds and then into her deeply, so deep… Her fingers were inadequate in recreating the feeling, but she plunged them in further, searching for, at least, a modicum of relief.

 

Scully caressed her wet breast with her other hand, remembering his lips and tongue on her that night and his hand cupping her not ten minutes ago. Her climax was nearing and she bit her lip, humming. Building, building—“Scully,” he had said in a low, breathy voice, “I love you”—then it hit. Her rapturing hum became his name. “Mmmmm-mulder.”   

 

Masturbating to thoughts of her now that they had slept together made for a more intense experience. He had images and details he didn’t have before, like the way her breasts swayed as he pumped into her and how she sought out his mouth to kiss him as they both came. Her throaty yeses still played on a loop in his brain, and he tried to recall exactly what he had done to make her voice her approval; what did she feel that caused her to vocalize her pleasure? Mulder ached to know, to learn. He had been too saturated with grief to really be present, to map her body and explore all the wonders she held within her.

 

Would he ever get the chance again? Not likely with the way she ran from the room at the sight of him aroused. Her duties as doctor to his sadness had been fulfilled, the statute of limitations for a pity fuck had run out. And he wasn’t sad anymore. Not really. He still felt loss, the death of his mother, and with Samantha, too, but he was no longer in the grips of it. Emotions came and went; he rode the waves. Mostly, it was the situation with Scully that plagued him now, and it felt like another loss on top of everything. In her sacrifice to soothe him, he had experienced an intimacy with her that he had only dreamed of. The problem with dreams, though, was that you inevitably woke up.

 

Waking from this particular dream made reality a living nightmare—what he had with his partner, his best friend, his touchstone and constant, was collapsing before his eyes; he had finally asked too much of her. 

 

It felt wrong to satisfy a baser instinct with these thoughts running through his mind and, looking back, he had known it was wrong to take advantage of her kindness and allow her to comfort him that way, too, but he had still achieved an orgasm. And he was nearing one now. Mulder tried to push the depressing thoughts back and just focus on the love he had seen in her eyes and felt in her touch. It may not have been the romantic love he had been hoping for, a love that matched his, but it was, undeniably, love. 

 

SAN VICENTE APARTMENTS

11:25 AM

 

“Drugs? No, I didn’t take any drugs. I’ve never even heard of that. Hell, I can’t even pronounce it,” said Lane Grayson. 

 

His roommate, Shauna, came to his defense. “I can’t imagine him taking a drug like that.”

 

“Why do you think you behaved that way?” asked Scully.

 

Lane shrugged. “The full moon? Don’t people go crazy when there’s a full moon?”

 

Scully could feel Mulder turn and look at her. She kept her eyes on Lane and gave him a hard-boiled “No.”

 

Mulder chuckled under his breath. “Can you walk us through your evening, describe what you were feeling?”

 

“Yeah. I had just come from acupuncture. Sometimes I--”

 

“Acupuncture?” interrupted Mulder.

 

“Mhm, I go every Sunday. So sometimes I feel a high afterward, like this energized zen feeling, and that’s how I felt after that session, but it was, like, intensified, man.”

 

“Intensified how?”

 

“I felt fucking invincible. Like inside my body everything was open, flowing. I had the urge to go for a run. I haven’t run in years but I couldn’t think of anything besides running as far and as fast as I could. I got home and was going to change to go running, but Shauna asked me to help her with her project so I did.”

 

“I’m majoring in Kinesiology at UCSC and I have this project due on the role of anatomy and biomechanics in yoga practice. Lane is one of my test subjects, so I had him do some poses.”

 

“Yeah, she kept touching me, pulling at my hips and stuff--”

 

“Well, I was helping with his form, nothing that a yoga instructor wouldn’t do.”

 

“But, for some reason, and this is embarrassing, I became aroused. Every touch was electric, and my, uh ...urges got out of my control. I’m still… so mortified. We’ve been roommates for four years, we’re good friends, and, and I ...assaulted her.” His chin quivered, his voice breaking at the end, then he crossed his arms tightly in front of him as if he were afraid it could happen again at any moment.   
  


Shauna put her hand on his shoulder. “I know you wouldn’t intentionally do anything to hurt me. I could tell you were acting strange before, but when you kissed me I knew something was wrong, that you weren’t of your right mind.” She turned back to Mulder and Scully. “Is it possible he was drugged?”

 

“Lane, would you be willing to take a drug test?” asked Mulder.

 

Lane glanced at Shauna, then nodded. “I, uh, I smoke weed, so is that, will that, um, will I get in trouble for that?”

 

“No, we’re not after some recreational drug use,” Mulder assured him.

 

“And if you find this alpha-whatever in my system, I mean, how do I prove that I didn’t knowingly take it?”

 

“That’s our job,” Scully said, reaching into her bag. “I can take the sample right here, just a small clipping of your hair.”

 

Lane sat up straight. “Yeah, let’s do it. I want to know what happened.”

 

Shauna smiled at him. “So do I.” Then she furrowed her brow. “It’s good that we are going to get to the bottom of this, but I’m confused as to why you are questioning us now. I didn’t press charges or anything, we are moving on from the incident.”

 

“We’re investigating the death of Sonia Tripp and she had this drug in her system.”

 

Shauna blanched at that. “I know, I mean, I knew Sonia. She wouldn’t’ve taken this drug, she didn’t take any drugs, not even, like, aspirin.”

 

“Do you know of anyone who would have the motive to drug her?” Scully asked.

 

She shook her head, thinking. “Wait, I remember her arguing with Dr. Harris outside of the coffee shop on Tuesday. Well, not really arguing; he was yelling at her, like, really aggressively. I was going to go, I don’t know, back her up, but she said something to him and left. I have Book Club with her on Thursdays and I was going to ask her about it, but...you know.”

 

“Who is Dr. Harris?”

 

“He’s the local physician, but he hardly has any patients because he’s kind of an asshole and mostly everyone here goes into Santa Cruz for their medical needs. In fact, Sonia had said she was gonna stop going to him, she was looking into more of a homeopathic health route.”

 

Scully was packing up Lane’s hair sample and looked at Mulder, raising a brow. She could see the wheels turning in his head. “Thank you, Shauna, this may be helpful.”

 

Mulder nodded and echoed Scully’s thanks as he stood up. Lane and Shauna walked them to the door. 

 

“When will you let us know the results?” asked Lane.

 

“It shouldn’t take long, a couple of hours, depending on how busy the lab is.”

 

“Okay, thanks, Agent Scully. Agent Mulder.” 

 

They began to walk down the path, but Scully stopped. “Oh, Lane, who is your acupuncturist?”

 

“Joan Zhang.”

 

She nodded, then turned to Mulder. “Same as Sonia.”

 

When they got to the car, Scully said, “I’m going to send this to the lab and then I think we should question Zhang.”

 

“That’s a good idea, Scully. While you do that, I’ll go talk to this Dr. Harris guy.”

 

She gave him a curious glance. He had been quick to split up the investigation yesterday, too. Although things were weird between them, she didn’t think it would affect their work, but perhaps it had. Was doing basic detective work alongside her that difficult for him? 

 

“I’m pursuing this my own way,” he had said to her when he went off with Harold Piller. But she had abandoned him first, hadn’t she? Going back to DC to make a point that Piller was a fraud and not worth their time. Scully was at a loss on how to help Mulder and every decision she made seemed to be the wrong one. 

 

It had started with the sex and snowballed from there. The morning after, he had been distant, closed off. They had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, but woke up on separate sides of the bed, the exact opposite of what had happened last night. Even as he continued to sleep, Scully could feel him slipping away from her. She had gotten up, put on her shoes, and was going to go get coffee for them when Skinner knocked on the door.  

 

Scully had had to insinuate herself into their trip back to Sacramento, feeling like a tagalong. Even though she had been the one to make the connection and lead them to Santa’s Village and the subsequent arrest of Ed Truelove, she still felt ineffectual. Then there was the appearance of Harold Piller, and their differing opinions about his abilities pushed the wedge further between them.

 

She had tried to be supportive but Piller’s claims were just getting Mulder’s hopes up again, and so soon after he had suffered the loss of his mother. Scully thought being headstrong about her avenue of investigation and her dismissal of Piller would be kind of a tough love approach to Mulder, but it just irritated him. This, in turn, frustrated her, and thus began a push and pull cycle where Scully was unable to figure out how to help Mulder while keeping in line with the hard truth and Mulder was too weighed down by his grief to think clearly.

 

Eventually, she had given in, begrudgingly going along with Mulder and Piller. She still cringed at her sarcastic remark calling Piller’s summoning a séance and wondered about Mulder’s follow-up comment about playing Spin The Bottle which he had said giving her a pointed look she couldn’t interpret. He was cracking jokes and slinging innuendo—that should’ve put her at ease, but with these new developments between them it had the opposite effect.

 

Then there was the diary, Samantha’s words, a mention of him, a wish to see him again. Starlight. Once again, his search for the truth had him looking into the sky, putting his faith in the fantastic. It was all so overwhelming to her and it wasn’t even her truth or crusade—she couldn’t imagine what this was like for him. 

 

“I’m free,” he had said. Finally, he had closure, he deserved it. Relief had washed over her, but her soul continued to steep in heartache; everything that had been lost over the years and the pain suffered by innocents, the injustice of it all—no one could be truly free from that. And now the two of them were stuck in limbo, a purgatory of her own making built from the many mistakes she had made along the way when she should’ve just been there for him, as a friend. Her feelings for him had confused her in the midst of the tragic events—and here she had thought that he had been the one who hadn’t been thinking clearly, but it was her the whole time. She had failed him. 

 

OFFICE OF DR. ANTONE HARRIS, MD

1:32 PM

 

“Argument? I wouldn’t call that an argument,” Dr. Harris said with a dismissing chuckle. “Miss Enos must be mistaken. Sonia and I simply talked about her final co-pay which was overdue.” His voice was laced with bitterness that Mulder detected immediately.

 

“So Sonia did discontinue your services as her doctor?”

 

“Yes, she did,” he spat, disdainfully. “Against my professional opinion, she had decided to go with some hippie-dippie, granola mumbo jumbo instead.”

 

“Mumbo jumbo?”

 

“Yeah, acupuncture, an herbalist, probably a chakra-alignment specialist or something. I don’t know. It’s all a bunch of hooey.”

 

“Were you treating her for anything specific?”

 

“No, just primary care. She complained of panic attacks and anxiety, but didn’t want the medication I prescribed.”

 

“Do you normally prescribe medication for psychological issues?”

 

Harris narrowed his eyes at Mulder. “I prescribe medications that are in my patient’s best interest based on my medical evaluation, Mr. Mulder.”

 

“Agent Mulder,” he corrected, knowing that the doctor was trying to establish superiority over him. “Is that the reason she left your practice?”

 

“Perhaps,” said Harris, shrugging. “She seemed to think meditation and pricking herself with needles would cure her,” he scoffed. 

 

“You don’t believe in the benefits of acupuncture?”

 

“Of course not! And look what happened. She went and got stuck like a pin cushion and fell off a cliff.”

 

“Why do think the two events are related?”

 

“Well, aren’t they?” he shot back. Mulder didn’t respond, just looked at him askance. “I don’t see why I’m being questioned, honestly. You should be asking her these questions. Search her office. Who knows what kind of stuff she uses on her clients. Ancient Chinese ‘medicine,’” he sneered, his fingers spastically making quotation marks in the air.

 

“What are you implying?”

 

“You’re the detective. Why don’t you figure it out!” His face was red and he stood up from his chair behind the desk. “Now, if you please, I’m very busy.”

 

Mulder went to the office door. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Harris.”

 

OFFICE OF DR. JOAN ZHANG, D.A.O.M., LA.c

1:54 PM

 

Scully stood looking at a framed piece of art hanging in Joan Zhang’s small waiting room. It was an ink wash painting in the traditional Chinese style of a woman standing on a ground of billowy clouds, the moon large and full beside her. The colors were muted, slate blues, greys; the pale yellow was so subdued but still made the moon glow somehow. 

 

“Chang’e,” said Joan when she walked up to Scully. “The Moon Goddess.”

 

“It’s beautiful.”

 

“It’s been in my family for generations, dated back to the early Ming Dynasty. Do you know the story?” Scully shook her head. “Well, there are different versions, but I’ll give you my favorite one. Chang’e and her beloved, Hou Yi, were immortals living in heaven. Hou Yi was an excellent marksman and the Jade Emperor asked him to teach his ten sons a lesson—his sons had turned into ten fiery suns, scorching the earth and causing hardship for his people. Instead of teaching them a lesson, Hou Yi shot down nine of the suns with his arrows, leaving one to provide the earth with warmth and light.

 

“The Emperor was furious and condemned both Hou Yi and Chang’e to life on earth as mortals. Devastated that he had cost his love her immortality, he went in search of an elixir that would restore it to both of them. He found out the Queen Mother of the West had the Pill of Immortality and she gave it to him as a reward for what he had done to save the earth, telling him that half of the pill would give him immortality, and taking the whole pill would send him back to the heavens. 

 

“When he returned home, he was immediately sent on another mission, and he told Chang’e to guard the pill and make sure no one stole it. When he got back, they would each take half and spend the rest of their days as immortals on earth. A treacherous apprentice of his, Feng Meng, came to steal it while Hou Yi was away, and Chang’e swallowed the pill whole and ascended to the heavens, choosing the moon as her residence.” Joan paused, smiling, then turned to Scully. “My grandmother and grandfather have told me different endings. My grandmother, who despises sentimentality, says that Hou Yi simply dies of a broken heart—The End. But my grandfather, finding that version too morose, says that he later became immortal again and flew to the sun and built a palace; Chang’e and Hou Yi came to represent the yin and yang, the moon and the sun.”  

 

“Neither is a happy ending,” Scully said. “If they live on the sun and the moon, they are doomed to be apart forever.”

 

“Selenelion,” answered Joan.

 

Scully scrunched her brow thoughtfully. “That can happen during a total lunar eclipse, right?”

 

“Yep. For the eclipse to take place, the sun and the moon must be exactly 180 degrees apart in the sky in perfect alignment known as--”

 

“Syzygy,” Scully said, a faint smile on her lips. “I’m familiar with that.”

 

“Selenelions are rare, but it is possible to see the setting moon and the rising sun simultaneously.”

 

“Only for a short period, though,” groused Scully. “I’m inclined to go with your grandmother, her ending is more merciful.” 

 

Joan laughed. “Fair enough. Now, I’m sure you aren’t here to talk about Chinese mythology. How can I help you?”

 

Scully finally looked away from the painting and reached in her pocket for her badge. “Like I said on the phone, I’m from the FBI, investigating the death of Sonia Tripp.”

 

“Oh yes, so awful what happened.” Her cheerful expression darkened and she became serious. “Is it true that I was the last person to see her alive?”

 

“No, her sister saw her when she got home, said she was acting strange, ‘hyper’ was the word she used. How was she when she left here?”

 

“Fine. She kept saying over and over that she felt great, rejuvenated. I guess, looking back, I can remember her being a little more enthusiastic than normal, but I haven’t been treating her for very long so I just assumed that was her personality and she was in a good mood.”

 

“Did she seem under the influence of a narcotic?”

 

“No, not at all.”

 

“How about your last session with Lane Grayson?”

 

“Did I think he was high?”

 

“Anything out of the ordinary with him?”

 

“Not really. He’s kind of a kooky guy anyway.”

 

Scully nodded and pursed her lips. “Do you ever prescribe medications to your patients?”

 

“I’m only authorized to prescribe drugless substances as a licensed acupuncturist.”

 

“Did you prescribe a drugless substance to either Sonia or Lane on their last visits?”

 

“No. I used a liniment on their skin, though. I often do at the end of the session. It’s an external analgesic with camphor and menthol.”

 

“May I see it?” asked Scully.

 

“Yeah, sure,” Joan said, motioning for Scully to follow her into the treatment room.

 

She handed Scully a small clear plastic bottle, half-filled with an amber liquid. The label was in Chinese. “Is this the same bottle you used for them?”

 

“Mhm.”

 

“I’d like to take this and have it tested.”

 

Joan looked at her curiously. “Okay.”

 

Scully noted the other items on the table beside the treatment bed. It was sparse—a CD player, a box of tissues, a TENS machine, a box of acupuncture needles, and a small medical waste receptacle. Joan took a step back, seeming to assess Scully. “Do you mind standing straight for me?”

 

Now it was Scully who gave her the curious look, and her curiosity made her comply with the odd request. Joan stepped forward and lightly ran her hands from the base of Scully’s neck out to the tips of her shoulders. “Is this shoulder bothering you?” she asked, tapping on her right bicep. 

 

Scully rolled her arm, stretching the rotator cuff. It had been tight, she’d been feeling it since last week. “Yeah, actually it is, and I might’ve slept on it funny last night,” she said, her voice becoming meek at the end, and she added, “at first;” Scully had been quite comfortable waking up in Mulder’s embrace. 

 

“I could help you relieve some of that tension if you want. My next appointment isn’t until four o’clock.” Scully looked hesitant. “Have you ever done acupuncture before?”

 

“No, uh, I haven’t.” Missy always used to rave about it and had tried to get her to go, becoming more insistent about it during her post-abduction recovery.

 

“It might help you with your anxiety, too,” Joan offered.

 

“Anxiety? I didn’t say I was anxious.”

 

“Please don’t take offense, but it is radiating off of you.”

 

This whole thing with Mulder had had her stressed out for weeks, but she didn’t think it was an outwardly noticeable stress. Scully had always been good about masking her feelings—was this situation too much for even her to hide? Did Mulder see it as clearly as Joan? “Okay, yeah,” said Scully. “I’d like to try it.”

 

“Great! Remove your shoes, jacket, and blouse and lie face up. You can cover yourself with this if you want,” Joan said, pointing to a folded towel on the table. “I'll give you a minute.” Joan left the room and Scully began to undress. She had a tank top underneath her shirt and left it on, foregoing the use of the towel, and laid down as instructed.

 

Joan knocked lightly at the door and came back in. She touched Scully’s arm at different spots and then asked her to stick out her tongue. She nodded and Scully wondered what her tongue had told her. Scully looked up at the ceiling and felt Joan take her wrist and check her pulse. “Try to relax,” she told Scully in a soft, calm tone.

 

Scully took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing her eyes. There was the sound of tearing paper, then Joan’s fingers gently brushed Scully’s hair back. “You’ll feel a slight prick and then kind of a dull ache or a tingling sensation.”

 

Joan pressed along Scully’s left shoulder with her fingertips, then tapped the needle in above her collarbone, pressing on it lightly. “Feel that?”

 

“Yes,” said Scully. It was a dull ache similar to the feeling after hitting your funny bone. 

 

Joan placed two in the cartilage of Scully’s left ear, then one in the middle of her forehead. “Shoot, I’m out of needles. I’ll be right back, let me grab another box.”

 

Scully kept her eyes closed and continued to breathe with her purposeful, deep breaths. The treatment probably wouldn’t work if she wasn’t able to relax, so she was focusing on that. Joan came back a moment later. Scully heard her rip the packaging open for the next needle; it went into her right shoulder, mirroring the one in her left. More tearing sounds and more needles were stuck in her—one in her right ear and three along her forearm.

 

Soothing water sounds, followed by zen string music, floated out of the speakers of the CD player. “I’m going to let you rest for a little while,” Joan whispered and left the room.

 

Scully’s deep breathing and the sensation the needles were creating finally lulled her into a relaxed state. It was like the pathways inside her body had been opened up; and as the tension eased in one area, another area would seem to respond and loosen up as well. When Joan returned and removed the needles, Scully blinked her eyes open, and it felt as if she had just had a full night of restful sleep.

 

“I take it you don’t want me to use the liniment on you,” quipped Joan.

 

“No, thank you,” Scully said, sitting up, stretching the afflicted shoulder. “Wow, the tightness is completely gone.”

 

Joan shrugged and smiled an affable I-told-you-so smile, and she left Scully to get dressed.

 

Scully came out of the treatment room, thanked Joan for the complimentary session, and gave her a card in case Joan thought of anything else that might be helpful. 

 

Joan walked Scully out, returned and redressed the bed for her next patient, then went into her office to catch up on insurance paperwork. Not long after, she heard the chime from the entrance door. She went out to the waiting room, thinking her four o’clock had come early, but it was Agent Scully’s partner.

 

“How long ago did she leave?”

 

“Ten, fifteen minutes, maybe.”

 

“She’s not answering her phone and she didn’t go back to the station. Her car is still here,” Mulder said, clearly worried. “Was she okay? Did she leave suddenly? Tell you where she was going?”

 

“She was fine when she left, said she felt great after the session, gave me her card, and I walked her out.”

  
  
“What do you mean ‘after the session?’”

 

“Oh, I did acupuncture on her. Her shoulder was bothering her.”

 

“Scully did acupuncture?” This made him uneasy, not only knowing that Scully didn’t put much merit in holistic healing but along with Dr. Harris’ vague accusations.

 

Joan nodded, and before Mulder could ask his next question, his cell phone rang in his pocket. He answered it, “Mulder.”

 

“Agent Mulder,” Sheriff Gutierrez said, sounding agitated. “You don’t have permission to be out at the old Cemex plant.”

 

“What?”

 

“Your partner, she flashed her badge at a ranger and is in the condemned building.”

 

“She’s there now?”

 

“Yes, the ranger said she was acting erratically, too.”

 

“Have an officer meet me at the entrance to the plant.” Mulder hung up and turned to Joan. “What did you do to her?”

 

She was taken aback. “N-nothing.”

 

“Did you drug her? Show me the needles you used on her,” he demanded.

 

She walked into the treatment room to get the needle receptacle and Mulder followed her. “Of course I didn’t drug her,” Joan said, appalled at the insinuation. “Am I being accused of that? With Sonia, and, and with Lane?” She was flustered and handed Mulder the plastic bin with shaky hands. 

 

“Dr. Harris said your methods might be questionable and you do have a connection with those who have been drugged.” He opened the box and saw less than a dozen needles. “These are the ones you used on her?”

 

“Yes, it’s a new bin, only the needles from her session are in there. But there’s no way they could be laced with anything if that’s what you’re implying. The needles are individually wrapped and sealed. See?” Joan opened up the box from the table, showing Mulder. “And as for Dr. Harris, he’s had it out for me since I started my practice here—always bothering our mutual patients about it and bad mouthing me around town.”

 

“Well, we’ll see if the suspicions are founded,” Mulder said holding up the bin and taking the box from Joan. “The entrance to the Cemex plant is nearby, right?”

 

“Yeah, there’s a pathway in the back of the parking lot that leads right to it.”

 

OLD CEMEX CEMENT PLANT

3:01 PM

 

There was an officer waiting when Mulder arrived at the entrance. He handed her the waste receptacle and the box of needles. “I need all of these needles tested for alpha-PVP, and when I get Agent Scully, we’ll need her to do a drug test so have the supplies standing by.” She nodded and quickly got back in her car and drove off.

 

Mulder started to climb the locked fence when he heard someone shouting, then he saw the ranger running toward him. “Agent Mulder, I’ll open the gate for you.” He took the key from his retractable keyring and unlocked the gate. “She’s up in the north tower, the door on the right when you get up to the main structure.”

 

“Thanks. No one else comes in, okay?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Mulder jogged up the wooded path to the building, his heart beating wildly in his chest. When he got near, he looked up. The tower was very tall, maybe twenty stories high—many of the walls had crumbled or eroded away, but he didn’t see Scully. He entered through the heavy metal door and went down a dark, dank hallway to the base of the stairwell. Scully’s heels were on the ground and little pantyhose-covered footprints showed in the dust on the stairs. He started to climb, calling out her name. 

 

Scully finally responded to him as he neared the top. “Mulder, hey, get up here, the view is amazing!” 

 

He crawled through the opening that led out onto a platform. Scully stood, haphazardly leaning on a rusted out railing. Mulder approached her cautiously and pulled her back a little bit. “Scully, we can’t be up here.”

 

“But look!” she said, sweeping her arm in the air. The view was very beautiful, her cheeks were flushed, eyes big and bright, and there was a huge grin on her face; then he looked at what she was showing him—even through his concern for her wellbeing he could still be stopped dead in his tracks by her beauty. 

 

The sky was clear, crystal blue without so much as a wisp of a cloud in sight. To their left, they could see the Monterey Peninsula in the distance. “It’s great, Scully, but we can see it from a safer spot, okay? And I want to get you tested. I think you’ve been drugged.”

 

“I feel fantastic, Mulder. Maybe I’ll stay up here until it gets dark and then go live on the moon.”

 

“The moon?” he asked warily.

 

“Yeah, I’ll leave you and become the moon goddess. That way I won’t cause you any more pain.”

 

He knew the drug was affecting her, but how had her hopped-up mind come up with that? “What are you talking about?”

 

“I’m sorry I keep messing up, Mulder. I don’t know how to help you grieve without getting my feelings for you all tangled up in it. If anything, I’m making it worse, preventing you from going through the natural stages of grief, keeping you from healing. I’m so sorry. I’ve been so selfish.”

 

“Slow down, Scully, you’re talking a mile a minute.” It was a lot to take in, let alone with the high-speed manner in which it was delivered. She could’ve been talking about himself because that was exactly how he felt—sorry and selfish. “I’ve been the selfish one. I’ve been complicating everything with  _ my _ feelings for  _ you. _ I kissed you on New Year’s. I kissed you when you were just trying to comfort me.” God help him, he was trying to reason with someone who was as high as a kite and spilling his deepest feelings about her  _ to her _ while she was in this state. 

 

“Selenelion” was her cryptic response. 

 

“What?”

 

“A rare occurrence where the sun and moon can be observed at the same time. It doesn’t last very long. You and me, Mulder, the sun and the moon, yin and yang. Destined to be apart because we are perfect opposites. But we have moments, selenelions, where we can show each other the love we have, well, I can, at least, and I can feel it from you even if it’s not in the same way as me. I can feel it in those moments—the New Year’s kiss, the almost kiss in your hallway, making love to you on your living room floor...” Her rapid rambling died out and she put her fingertips to her lips wistfully.

 

Mulder couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and not in the way of the phrase’s expression, he literally couldn’t believe it because Scully was all drugged up and not thinking clearly. Although, truth still rang in her words even as manic as she was, but he couldn’t entertain the possibility of her reciprocating his feelings right now; he had to get them off this unstable platform and down on solid ground. And hell, if that wasn’t a metaphor for what he wanted for them emotionally, too.

 

He reached for her hand. “C’mon, Scully, we can talk about this later, when you’re more yourself...if you want to.” Mulder realized she might never want to mention what was said up here again. “I gotta drug test you. We’re in the middle of this case, Scully,” he said, appealing to her work ethic. 

 

Scully pulled her hand from his, covered her eyes, and stepped back, groaning, “I can’t believe I said all that to you. See? I’m so goddamned selfish! Putting you on the spot, making you uncomfortable.” 

 

She leaned her back against the railing with a heavy sigh that crossfaded with the sound of the creaking metal joints giving way. Mulder lunged for her, grabbing her by the arm just as it snapped and fell, clattering loudly on its way down. He brought her into him and hugged her tightly, trying not to think of what a close call that had been. Tears stung behind his eyes and then he heard Scully succumb to her own emotion, too, softly crying against his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

 

COAST INN

4:31 PM

 

“Thank you, Sheriff,” Mulder said into the phone. He pressed ‘End’ and tossed it on the bed next to Scully. She was sitting on his unmade bed, the one in which they had slept together the night before, rubbing her hands along the tops of her thighs over and over. Scully had tested positive for alpha-PVP as had Lane and four of the acupuncture needles that Joan had used on Scully. The other five and the new box of individually wrapped needles did not have any traces of the drug. The police had Joan in holding based on this evidence. And as for Scully, she just had to ride the wave until the effects of the drug wore off which could last anywhere from two to six hours. They were only on hour two now. Luckily, she hadn’t been given too high of a dosage with less than half of the needles having been laced.  

 

“How’re you doing, Scully?” he asked.

 

She rubbed her legs more zealously. “I have to move, Mulder. I’m crawling out of my skin.” She stood up and bounced on the balls of her feet. “And I’m so hot.” Scully wriggled clumsily out of her sweatshirt. Mulder had had her change out of her suit when they got back to the motel. After the sweatshirt came off, the t-shirt followed, leaving her in just a bra and jeans, and Mulder had to stop her from unbuttoning those.

 

He put his hands over hers and said her name in a stern tone. She responded by slipping her hands free and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Mulderrr,” she purred in his ear, and it registered in his groin. Her body was flush against his, and her fidgety movements were not helping him tamp down his arousal. 

 

“I know a vigorous physical activity we can do,” hinted Scully, seductively. She pressed her hips into him and giggled when she felt his budding erection against her belly. “It would help us both pass the time.”

 

He peeled her arms off of him and gently pushed her away. “Run,” he said in a slightly high, slightly squeaky voice. He cleared his throat. “Let’s go for a run, Scully. Help you get some of that energy out.”

 

Scully crossed her arms in front of her, the corner of her lips angling down in a pout. “My idea was more fun.”

 

“Yeah, well…” he said, flustered. Mulder grabbed his running clothes from his bag and instructed Scully to do the same. “I’m going to change. Do not leave,” commanded Mulder from the bathroom doorway.

 

Scully stood at attention and saluted him, “Aye aye, captain!”

 

Mulder rolled his eyes and closed the door. He changed quickly then called out to Scully asking if she was dressed. 

 

Silence.

 

He came barrelling out of the bathroom and found the room empty. “Scully!”

 

“Boo!” She jumped out from behind the door, slapping his back to add to the scare. 

 

“Jesus Christ!” Mulder gasped. His heart had jumped up to his throat. Scully laughed—a rich, husky cackle bubbled out of her as she doubled over onto the bed. Mulder shook his head looking at her.  _ At least she had changed, _ Mulder thought. He tried to ignore her and her fit of laughter as he put on his shoes, but it was so adorable, and contagious, too. Mulder found himself unable to hold back his own chuckling. Eventually, he was able to get her to put her shoes on and they set out on their run.  

 

DAVENPORT LANDING BEACH

5:25 PM

 

Mulder had tried to set a pace for them, but Scully kept getting ahead of him. They walked down the ramp to the beach, both out of breath. Mulder was struggling, but Scully seemed fine, ready for more. 

 

She plopped down onto the soft sand and took off her shoes and socks. “There’s nothing like the feeling of sand between your toes,” she stated, mirthfully, digging her feet in. Mulder stood beside her, his hands on his hips, looking out at the ocean. “Are you going to run with your shoes on?” Scully asked.

 

“Oh, are we going to keep running?” Mulder was a runner, a good runner, but she had out-runned him on the way to the beach. 

 

“If you’re too tired…” Scully said with a smirk.

 

Mulder chuckled and sat down beside her. “You’re wearing me out, Scully.”

 

“Not the way I intended,” she muttered under her breath, but loud enough for him to hear. She avoided looking at him when she felt his eyes on her. “Did you know, Mulder, that I can do a perfect cartwheel?”

 

“Can you?”

 

Scully stood up and patted the sand off her butt. “Well, I used to be able to, I might not anymore.” She got into position, assessing the spot on the ground in front of her then threw her left hand down and kicked her legs up and over as her right hand came down beside the left, then she tumbled onto the sand, laid out flat. That deep cackle emanated from her chest again. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked at Mulder who was also laughing.

 

“That was terrible, Scully. Might be the worst cartwheel in all of history.” 

 

“Alright, alright,” she said, still giggling and scrambling up. “Lemme try again.”

 

Scully tried about a dozen more times, improving upon each one, but never quite getting good form. Mulder was out of breath again, this time from laughing so hard. He crawled over to Scully where she laid in the sand having finally given up. Her hair was in her eyes and he brushed it aside. They looked at each other, savoring this moment of happiness.

 

Mulder broke the connection first, sitting up and looking out into the bronze horizon. “It’s getting dark, we should head back.” Scully went over to her shoes and began to put them back on. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

 

“I still feel jittery, but it’s lessened.”

 

“Good. Wanna run back?”

 

“Yeah, can you handle it?” joked Scully. 

 

Mulder smiled. “I’ll try to keep up.”

 

They started to jog, Scully letting him set the pace this time. “Remember on our first case you asked me to go for a run with you?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I wanted to, but I was so nervous I’d make an ass out of myself. I wanted to impress you,” she admitted.

 

“You did, Scully,” he said, adding softly, “You still do.”

 

COAST INN

6:12 PM

 

Scully started to gather her things together. When they had gotten back to the motel, the manager had informed her that the heater had been fixed in her room. Mulder paced behind her. “You know what,” he said, “I’d feel more comfortable if you slept here tonight. That way I can keep an eye on you.”

 

Scully smiled but hid it when she turned around to face him. She felt the effects of the drug wearing off; she was in the offset or “come down” stage, but she wasn’t about to argue with him about this—she wanted to stay the night again. “Okay.” 

 

He nodded firmly, glad to have that settled. Scully grabbed her pajamas and asked if she could shower first. 

 

“Yeah, you shower and I’ll order some food.”

 

Scully scrunched up her face. “I don’t think I can eat, Mulder. The drug is an appetite suppressant and just the thought of food is making me queasy. I could probably drink a gallon of water though. My mouth is so dry.”

 

“Well, I’ll get a pizza and you can have some if you get hungry later. And I’ll stock up on water from the vending machine.”

 

About two hours later they were sat on the floor at the foot of the bed watching tv, a closed pizza box between them and empty water bottles littered around. Scully looked over at Mulder who was asleep, having nodded off, his head bent awkwardly down. She gently shook him awake. “You’re going to get a stiff neck, Mulder,” she said quietly. “Why don’t you get in bed.”

 

He stood up and stretched. “Are you tired yet?” asked Mulder hopefully. 

 

Scully shook her head. “I need to try to sleep, though. I’m starting to get a headache.” She picked up the pizza box and shoved it in the small fridge, the smell of it churning her stomach.

 

They turned the lights and tv off and got in bed, lying with significant space between them, both on their backs looking up at the ceiling. After a while, Scully spoke, knowing that Mulder had not fallen asleep yet and sensing that he might have the same thing as her on his mind. “I’m aware of what I said up there and what you said. I thought about blaming the drugs and feigning obliviousness, but I don’t want to forget and I don’t want to bury it like I usually do and pretend nothing happened.”

 

“You don’t want it to end up just another selenelion.”

 

Scully turned on her side toward him and tried to make out his profile in the darkness. “Exactly. None of those moments I mentioned exist in a vacuum, Mulder. They happened because of how I feel about you and—I’m just now letting myself believe it—how you feel about me.”

 

Mulder was now facing her, too, and they were much closer together. “Then let’s promise to talk about it, not let the moment pass us by, okay?” He brushed his fingers along her cheek. 

 

“Promise,” she whispered.

 

“But tomorrow. I want you to get some sleep.” Scully nodded obediently, and he leaned in and placed a kiss on her forehead. Mulder wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, Scully instinctively tucking herself up, fitting perfectly in the space his body made for hers. 

 

They said goodnight to each other, and Mulder closed his eyes. Scully laid awake, basking in the warmth of his embrace and with the knowledge that they had admitted their feelings without any extenuating circumstances to invalidate them.

 

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, time was moving slowly for her now due to thought deceleration, an after effect of the drug. Mulder’s breaths were even, he might be asleep, but Scully wanted to say one more thing. “Mulder?”

 

“Hm?” he hummed drowsily.

 

“I love you, too.”

 

“Too?” 

 

“You said it ...that night. I was too freaked out to say back.”

 

“Oh. I thought maybe you were referring to when I said it in that hospital in Bermuda.” She laughed lightly against his chest. “I meant it both times, Scully.” 

 

“And I mean it back both times.” 

 

“Well, we’re all squared away then.” He tilted her chin up and kissed her, this time, on the lips.


	4. Chapter 4

COAST INN

FEBRUARY 27, 2000

7:23 AM

 

Scully woke up, once again, with Mulder wrapped around her, his hand inexplicably resting in the same place on her boob just like the morning before. But instead of devising a graceless escape, she smiled and cuddled closer to him. He roused, feeling her movement, squeezing her breast once before realizing what was under his hand. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, still half-asleep. 

 

“No, you’re not,” she joked. “And I’m not either.”

 

Mulder chuckled and opened his eyes, blinking the slumber away and focusing on Scully’s face. “How are you doing? Feeling hungover at all?”

 

“No, not really. I feel good.”

 

He squeezed her boob again. “You do feel good. Let’s stay in bed and feel just how good we both feel.”

 

Scully groaned. “God, you don’t know how badly I want to do that.”

 

“What’s stopping you?”

 

“Mulder, we are on a case. I know they’re holding Joan and that the evidence points to her, but I really don’t think she did anything.”

 

“Yeah, I agree, something is off about it. You know what, I noticed Harris had a biography on the Kitchen Brothers in his office.”

 

“How on earth does that explain anything?”

 

“It’s interesting, no? He doesn’t believe in holistic stuff but he’s reading about the brothers and their celestial magic.”

 

“Okay, you’re the high one now. We know it’s a drug, Mulder. The Kitchen Brothers have nothing to do with any of this.” He shrugged, grinning cheekily at her, which earned himself a playful slap on his chest from Scully. “I wonder if the needles were tampered with at the manufacturer’s. Let’s talk to Joan first.”

 

“Aye aye, captain!” he said, saluting her, and she looked at him, agape. “You said that to me last night,” explained Mulder, quickly.

 

“I did not.”

 

“You so did. Right before you scared the shit out of me.”

 

Scully laughed.  _ “That _ I remember. Spooky Mulder spooks so easily,” she said, lunging at him and tickling his sides.

 

SANTA CRUZ COUNTY SHERIFF’S OFFICE - DAVENPORT EXTENSION

8:09 AM

 

“I’ve been using the same brand of needles for years. Do you think that whole box had laced needles? There are a hundred to a box. I must’ve used them on ten different people,” fretted Joan. “And poor Sonia, I used about eighteen on her. Luckily, you only got four,” she said to Scully. 

 

“Where do you purchase them from?”

 

“I get all my supplies from a Chinese wholesaler in San Jose.”

 

An officer opened the door to the interrogation room. “Agents, we have something for you.”

 

Mulder and Scully excused themselves and followed the officer to a small room with video equipment. “We found something on the CCTV footage from the business complex’s camera.” She pointed to the screen. “This is the entrance to Joan Zhang’s office on the morning of February 20th. Zhang leaves at 9:30, without locking up. And a couple of minutes later…” She pressed play on the machine. The screen showed Dr. Harris enter the office with a white box in his hand. The footage was fuzzy, but it was clear that he was holding a box of the acupuncture needles that Joan used. Shortly after, he exited, still with a box in his hand.

 

“Harris. I knew something was fishy about him,” Mulder said.

 

“You think he switched the boxes?” asked Scully. “How quickly can we get a warrant to search Harris’ home and office?”

 

“I’ll make a call,” said the officer, dashing out of the room.

 

HARRIS RESIDENCE

3:44 PM

 

“I didn’t think anyone would die. I just wanted to teach them a lesson,” Harris said as an officer handcuffed him. 

 

“Who were you teaching a lesson? Joan or the patients?” Scully asked.

 

“Both! That hippie shit doesn’t work!”

 

“Then why did you feel the need to discredit it?”

 

“Because that bitch stole my patients!”

 

The officer looked to Scully and she nodded. “Get him out of here.” 

 

Mulder came out of the house holding some books. He held them up to Scully. “More on the Kitchen Brothers.”

 

“That’s a great side note for your own personal enjoyment, Mulder. We found a surplus of alpha-PVP and all the equipment needed to tamper with the boxes of needles,” she reiterated for him, adding, “Oh, and he confessed.”

 

Mulder smirked and then jogged down the driveway to Harris who was being ushered into the backseat of a police car. “Hey Dr. Harris, did your interest in the Kitchen Brothers play into your motives at all?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“How so?”

 

“I admire the lengths they went to for vengeance,” said Harris wickedly. 

 

Mulder turned back to Scully, who had heard their exchange, goading her with a victorious shrug and a wink. 

 

CALIFORNIA STATE ROUTE 1

PESCADERO, CA

4:52 PM

 

“I bet he built that obelisk out by Shark Fin Cove. I should’ve asked him,” bemoaned Mulder. Scully shook her head at him, her pursed lips hiding an affectionate grin. “It doesn’t explain the goats, though,” he said, continuing to mutter to himself. 

 

“We caught the bad guy, Mulder. Case closed. I’d rather not hear any more about Dr. Harris, the moon brothers, or goats for the rest of the trip home if you don’t mind.”

 

“Oh, we’re not going home just yet, Scully.”

 

“What? Mulder, our flight leaves out of San Francisco at 7:20. We’ll barely make it as it is.”

 

“I canceled it.”

 

“You what? Why?”

 

Mulder slowed the car and put the turn signal on. “I’m going to make good on that belated birthday present.” He turned off the coastal highway onto a tree-lined road, a wooden sign said “Costanoa: Lodge, Store, Camp.”

 

“You better not be taking me camping, Mulder.”

 

“I’m finally going to get you naked in a sleeping bag with me.”

 

“You’re joking.”

 

“Yes, I am.” Mulder pulled up to the entrance of the lodge. “I’ve booked us a king suite for two nights and a massage for you tomorrow morning.” 

 

Her mouth fell open and she looked at him, stunned. She didn’t know what to say and didn’t get the chance to say anything if she had because the valet opened her door. “Welcome to Costanoa, miss.”

 

Mulder checked them in and they went to their room. It was spacious; the bedroom and the sitting area were separated by a large, rolling barn door, the fireplace was already going, and the pink-gold rays of the setting sun flooded in through the sliding glass doors that led out to a private patio.

 

Scully still hadn’t said anything and even though she now had found words to express herself, she opted to show him how much she enjoyed her surprise by pressing him up against the wall and kissing him, full and deep.

 

“I’m guessing you like it,” he mumbled against her lips.

 

She continued to kiss him and her hands started to roam. First, they were in his hair, her fingertips scratching his scalp, then on his chest, his hips, and to his belt buckle. Barely breaking contact, she said, “We should be talking, we promised to talk, remember?” Her words were all soft breaths.

 

“Okay, let’s talk,” Mulder murmured back with no intention of stopping the kiss or stilling his hands which were now roaming, too. He pushed her jacket down her arms, letting it fall to the floor, and kissed his way down to her neck. “I want you.” Kiss. “I need you.” Lick. “I love you.” Nip.

 

Scully sighed wantonly and put her hands on the sides of his face, bringing him up to her so she could feel her lips on his again and to drink down each statement to make it real—a part of her—to have the words pump through her bloodstream to her heart where they would stay, always. “I want you, I need you, I love you,” she echoed into his mouth. 

 

His pants now undone, Scully tugged them down, and he stepped out, clumsily, while toeing off his shoes. Mulder hastily unbuttoned her blouse. “Good talk,” he said, breathless. “Mmhmm,” she agreed.

 

Once they were both naked, Mulder switched their positions, pushing her against the wall, then traveled down her body, kissing and licking and nipping some more. Extra time was spent at her breasts which, he told her between soft caresses, were perfect. Her fingers played with his hair as he knelt down, putting his face close to her, breathing in her scent, then blowing hot, moist air onto her sodden sex.

 

Mulder toyed with her, at first, with barely-there kisses along her swollen labia and just above her clit. He knew he was driving her mad and he knew that she loved it. When she whimpered his name, her voice full of need, he put his tongue on her, then in her, stroking her, licking her, smiling every time she squirmed or her pelvis thrust toward him, searching for more. Mulder put his hands firmly at her hips and moved up to nibble her bundle of nerves. A long stream of yeses rasped past her lips. She was hot and pulsing against his mouth, then he felt her spasm, her legs shaking, and she punctuated her rambling with a final loud and resounding “YESSS!”

 

He stood, then lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the bed in a very honeymoon-like gesture. They had, essentially, just said vows to each other. Mulder laid her down gently and crawled onto her, placing a soft kiss on her lips. She returned it in the same manner, warm and chaste, then pushed her tongue into his mouth and the kiss became hungry. Lips and tongues slipped and tussled, sloppy, scattered, and in the clamor, Scully rolled Mulder underneath her and straddled his hips. 

 

She held him in her hand, stroking him deliberately and grinding herself against him. Mulder let out an anticipatory growl when she scooted down his body and settled between his legs, still pumping his hard length. He couldn’t help the violent twitch of his groin when her hot, wet mouth closed around him. “Ffff-uck,” he said, lifting his head to watch her. Scully took him deep, his head hitting the back of her throat, and her gag reflex kicked in. “Sorry,” Mulder whispered, lightly pushing her hair back. She looked up at him, making eye contact, and shook her slightly, then did the motion again, swallowing, taking him deeper than before.

 

Scully was only able to do that a couple more times until Mulder desperately tugged her up. “Scully...need...in you...now,” came out in brusque, staccato grunts. She positioned herself on top of him, guiding him inside her, needing it just as desperately as he did, and lowered down; they let out a collective sigh.  

 

She began to ride him slowly, feeling every inch of him. “Mmm-ulder, oh god, yesss.”

 

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

 

Scully planted her hands on his chest and rocked more steadily. She bit her lip and whimpered, feeling tingling warmth spread inside her from her belly to her chest. “Mmm-ulderrr.”. 

 

“I love the way you sound when you’re moaning my name.”

 

She softly smiled at him, eyes heavy-lidded. “Imagine what it would be like if I screamed it.”

 

“Is that a challenge, Scully?”

 

“Yes, Mulder.” She leaned down, putting their faces close together and whispered, “Fuck me til I scream your name.”

 

“Sweet holy Jesus,” Mulder rasped. 

 

Grabbing her by the hips, he flipped them over, staying inside her. Then he pushed her legs back, thrusting deep, making them both moan. Mulder rested her calves on his shoulders, put his hands on the bed on either side of her, and began pumping in and out. In and out. He sped up as she encouraged him, saying, “More” and “Harder.” 

 

His balls seized up and he made fists with his hands, pushing down into the mattress, trying to hold back his orgasm. He closed his eyes shut, but could not close his ears to the sounds of their lovemaking: the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin, her heavy breaths, the audible evidence of how wet and tight she was around him, Scully moaning his name again and again. Each blissful utterance was louder than the last, and he continued to slam into her until he couldn’t hold back any longer. And he didn’t have to hold back because, at that moment, Scully came screaming his name.

 

They held each other, their bodies hot and sticky, but comfortably entwined. There was no cloud of mourning over their heads, no boss knocking on their door to send them further into personal tragedy, no more wondering about how the other felt. All the pretense that had built up between them over the course of their many moments were now washed away, replaced by love unfettered.

 


End file.
